


The Greatest Achievement

by Maeve_of_Winter



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Brotherly Love, Chocolate Box Treat, F/M, M/M, Protectiveness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-25 22:30:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17733860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maeve_of_Winter/pseuds/Maeve_of_Winter
Summary: It takes Dean far longer than it ever should have to finally stand up for Hank to their father, but he's not prepared for how good it feels when he finally does.





	The Greatest Achievement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jougetsu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jougetsu/gifts).



The Stuyvesant Medal of Continuing Scientific Brilliance wasn’t an award frequently given to students still in their undergrad, Professor Von Helping had told Dean. Since it required that students significantly expand on and provide new revelations on a separate scientist’s existing project, it usually meant that only doctorate students were able to meet the qualifications. So to Dean, that just made it all the sweeter that he somehow managed to snag it while still in his junior year.

“And to think, I wouldn’t have been able to do it if it hadn’t been for you unleashing Uncle JJ’s bio-bots on me,” Dean told Rusty sincerely as he explained the award over the breakfast table. “I mean, I didn’t even have to question if I wanted to be my own test subject, since, you know, I already was one.”

“Yes. Serendipitous.” Rusty glowered into his morning coffee, and Dean couldn’t help but feel hurt by it. Neither Pop nor Hank seemed even the slightest bit proud of him.

Whereas Pop and Hank’s enthusiasm was lacking, though, Uncle Vatred’s certainly wasn’t. He clapped Dean on the back wholeheartedly, beaming like he’d won the award himself.

“Well, I think it’s just outstandin’,” Uncle Vatred proclaimed. “Always knew you’d go on to accomplish great things, Dean. And you know what? We should celebrate!”

Hank, who had greeted Dean’s news with all the cheer of someone who’d been told their house was being rezoned and they had to attend two dozen mandatory town meetings about the process, now perked up. “Hey, I’d like to have a party.”

Dean grinned with relief, happy that Hank didn’t seem to be intent on holding a grudge against him for his success, and nodded. “Yeah, I think that would be really cool, actually.”

Uncle Vatred jumped up. “I’ll go call some caterers!”

“Oh, I can’t wait,” Rusty remarked, sarcasm clear in his voice.

But Dean didn’t care, because Hank held up the Venture V, waiting for him to reciprocate, and Dean did so readily, relief pulsing through him that at least Hank was on his side again.

* * *

As it turned out, not a single catering company in New York City had the insurance to cover serving a party at the VenTech Tower now that Pop was a Level Ten Protagonist. Still, the restaurant Uncle Vatred eventually found for them was a really fancy place, and Dean’s celebratory dinner was held at some ritzy indoor courtyard strung with all kinds of twinkling white lights, kind of like stars. It almost reminded him of where a prom might take place. (A normal high school prom, not the kind that he’d had.) 

And almost everyone that Dean knew was there. HELPeR, Colonel Gentleman and Action Man with Rose, the Order of the Triad, and Mr. White and Dr. Quizboy. Even Shore Leave and Amber Gold had managed to make it, and Professor Von Helping and his wife were attending as well. Sirena was there as Hank’s date, and Jared—a happy flush automatically crept into Dean’s face just at the thought of him—was also there, but as Dean’s date. 

The absolute best part was that everything seemed to be going smoothly. As Professor Von Helping stepped up to the podium to make the congratulatory speech Uncle Vatred had asked him to write, Dean turned and was about to convey his disbelief to Jared that no disaster had ruined the occasion yet.

But he must have jinxed himself just by thinking that, because just as Professor Von Helping opened his mouth to speak, Pop darted up to the podium and snatched the mic away before he had the chance to begin.

“Oh,  _ no, _ ” Dean breathed, the bottom of his stomach dropping out like it always had whenever the X-1 took a nosedive. Pop had been guzzling drinks all night—Dean himself had watched as he’d gulped down four Cuba libres, followed by a mango daiquiri, two peach bellinis, and a Long Island iced tea, and now he was holding what looked like a blue Hawaiian. Pop had never been all that great with people, but he was exceptionally terrible with them whenever he was liquored up. And any hope that Pop wasn’t going to make a complete ass out of himself in front of everyone was dashed by his opening lines. 

“Yeah, yeah—lemme guess, you have some rousing speech worthy of Patton himself all about how wonderful Dean is. Well, you can just sit right back down, because I’m the boy’s father, and if anyone’s going to say anything about him, it’s going to be me. So, goodbye now.” Rusty waved Professor Von Helping off, but while Professor Von Helping stepped away from the podium, his expression icy, he remained standing there rather than returning to his seat.

“Yo, this could be cool,” Hank whispered excitedly. “That guy from your school looks really mad, Dean. Maybe he’s going to punch Pop out.”

“He’s definitely asking for it,” Sirena observed, idly reaching for another piece of shrimp as she watched the show.

Meanwhile, Jared squeezed Dean’s hand reassuringly. “Hey, who knows? Maybe your dad will surprise you.”

Dean resisted the temptation to bury his face in his hands. “He always does, just in all the worst ways.”

And this night was no exception.

“So, yeah. Dean’s award thing. It’s real great. Congratulations, Dean!” Rusty paused to take swing from his drink. “But you know who should be getting some credit here who’s not? Me. His dad. The one who  _ inspired  _ him to be scientist. The one who pushed him down that path when he fought tooth and nail trying to tell me otherwise. So, in a way, this is just as much my victory as his. So, a toast to me, Dr. Thaddeus Venture!” Raising his drink again, he drained the last of it.

From what Dean could see, he was the only one to so much as reach for his glass.

But Pop didn’t let the chilly reception to his speech stop him.

“Of course,” he went on, “they can’t all be victories. You see my son Hank here? You know Hank?  _ He  _ didn’t even go to college. You won’t see  _ him  _ accepting any awards for scientific brilliance—or any awards at all, if I’m going to be honest. Hey! No, stop that!”

Professor Von Helping had attempted to grab the mic from Pop, but Pop refused to give it up. The struggle continued for several seconds, but eventually it was the Professor who gave in, backing away with fire literally in his eyes. He rejoined his wife at their table, removing himself from Pop before he lost control of himself. Dean was overcome by rush of guilt that his award had put von Helping in such an awkward position.

“Right, then, where was I?” Pop adjusted his glasses. “You know, I’ve always dreamed of both my sons being super scientists. That’s right, both of them. But you notice how only one of them followed my dream? The sheer selfishness of it is pretty unbelievable, let me tell you . . .”

Mortification and outrage swept over Dean as Pop ranted on. This was supposed to be  _ his _ night, a celebration of  _ his _ accomplishments. And he loved Pop, he really did, but leave it to Pop to hijack the night to make the night all about himself—specifically, about his disappointment in Hank.

And Hank, poor Hank, he didn’t even seem surprised by it. Dean looked to him, expecting shock or sadness or anger, by instead of any of that, Hank was just playing with his water glass, moodily twirling its glass stem back and forth between his palms. He didn’t even seem upset by it, Dean realized, and a part of him wanting to curl up and cry  _ for _ Hank when he saw how easily he accepted being publicly berated by Pop. He was _ used _ to it.

And Dean was, too. Pop could be mean to both of them sometimes and nice to both of them some other times, but he always expected more from Dean than from Hank and had always made it known to both of them. And it had only gotten worse when Dean had decided to go into college when Hank hadn’t.

He was the favorite. Dean had known that for a while. But it had never been so apparent before. And Pop had never been quite so nasty about it before.

Maybe Dean and Hank were used to it, but their other guests weren’t. Jared was watching Pop with an expression somewhere between contempt and disbelief. Sirena’s stare was fixed on Pop, the anger on her face fiery enough to bring summertime to a nuclear winter, a steak knife clenched in her white-knuckled grip. Dean would have bet good money that it was only her determination not to begin a dispute between the OSI and the Guild that was preventing her from putting that knife to use. Meanwhile, the OSI agents in attendance had mixed reactions: Amber Gold was just looking at Pop in open-mouthed bewilderment, while Shore Leave seemed torn between excitement at the mounting fiasco and disgust at what Pop was saying. He kept glancing at Brock as if to make sure what was happening in front of them was really happening at all. 

And Brock was watching Pop with face that no one else would be able to read, but after years with him, Dean knew that he was furious but fighting not to show it. He could tell by the deep crinkles in Brock’s forehead—those and the lit cigarette (in blatant violation of the restaurant's “no smoking” policy) smoldering, entirely forgotten, between his clenched fingers. 

Everyone else was fed up with Pop’s behavior, Dean realized. And that probably meant he should be, too.

Time to do something about it, then.

His heart pounding, Dean squeezed Jared’s hand for reassurance and then sprang up from his chair, stalking over to the podium before he could second-guess himself about it.

“That’s enough,” he spat, cutting Pop off mid-sentence and coming to stand face-to-face with him.

Pop blinked blearily at him—he was  _ really _ drunk. “Dean? Dean, go sit down. Daddy’s talking now.”

“No. You’re finished.” Without even thinking about what he was doing, Dean reached out and ripped the microphone out of Pop’s hands and then turned to face the expectant audience. 

It was then that it occured to Dean that he had no idea what to say. 

He did his best to improvise.

“Thanks for coming out, everyone.” That was good. It was polite. “I just wanted to say that no matter what my dad has to say, I’m proud of Hank.” He’d hoped that mention would get Hank’s attention, and it did. Hank raised his head to look at Dean, a cautiously hopeful expression on his face.

“I might be a scientist, like my  _ grandfather  _ before me,” Dean continued, purposefully leaving out any mention of Pop as he shot a pointed look his way. It might have been petty, but so was Pop using his party to scold Hank. “But my grandfather was also an adventurer. And that’s why I’m hoping that while I continue my scientific research, Hank will join me in helping me test out my inventions and putting them to use in the field.”

Grabbing the glass box with the medal from its display table, Dean held it up for all to see. “And that’s why this award might have just my name, but it’s really for both me  _ and _ Hank. It’s a testament to the future of Team Venture and to the two of us working together. So.” Dean turned toward Hank with a nervous smile, desperately hoping he wasn’t going to make a fool out of himself. “Hank, would you come up here and accept this award, please?”

Several heartbeats passed before Hank stood, the scrape of his chair pushing back seeming abnormally loud in the otherwise silent room, and even then, he hesitated, looking uncertain. 

Dean did his best to nod encouragingly, mentally pleading for his brother to join him and futilely wishing that they had those twin telekinesis powers so he could tell him everything would be okay. But maybe he didn’t need those special twin powers, because Hank walked up to stand beside him anyway and accepted the medal as Dean handed it to him.

“Congratulations, Hank,” Dean said, nervous but happy, his confidence cautiously rising. “I’m proud to have you as my brother, and I look forward to working with you.”

Then, switching the microphone off, he threw his arms around Hank and pulled him into a tight hug, holding on to him for several moments.

“Thanks, Deano,” Hank whispered to him roughly.

“No problem, Hankinator,” Dean replied, grinning. This felt  _ right _ . Standing up for his brother felt  _ good _ . It was something, he knew, that he should have done years ago, but he was glad that he’d at least done it now.

It was only after they separated that Dean remembered their guests, and it was with an embarrassed flush that he switched the mic back on.

“Thanks for your, uh, patience,” he said, looking directly at the back wall so he wouldn’t have to see anyone’s face and get flustered. “Um, dessert will be in a few minutes, so I hope you enjoy.”

With that, he turned the mic off and placed it on the podium, and walked back with Hank to their table. It was only when Dean sat down again that he realized the adrenaline was pulsing through him so hard that he was shaking.

Sirena didn’t seem bothered by it, though, swooping in to give Dean a kiss the instant he sat down. “You were fucking spectacular, Dean.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she then looped her arms around Hank. “Thanks for standing up for him.”

Guilt flashed through Dean. “It took me too long to do that,” he admitted, looking at Hank.

Hank gave him a weary but genuine smile. “Better late than never.”

“He’s right.” Jared put an arm around Dean’s shoulders, drawing him close, and Dean could feel his ears grow warm. “That was really brave.”

“I think ‘extraordinarily disrespectful’ is what you mean,” Pop sniped, walking over to them, and Dean stifled a groan. 

“In fact,” Pop went on, shaking his finger at Dean, “I have half a mind to completely cut you off for humiliating me in front of all these people like this! How would you like that, hmm?”

Before Dean could even think of a response, Sirena rocketed upward from her chair, her fist pulled back, and, using her forward momentum, she let it fly directly into Pop’s face. As they all watching in astonishment, the punch caught Pop square in the jaw, the impact spinning him around and knocking him to the floor.

“That’s for being such a colossal bastard to your own kid,” Sirena declared as she stood over Pop.

“Amen to that, sister!” Shore Leave called.

Glancing over at the OSI agents, Dean wasn’t able to avoid noticing that even though Brock was supposed to be Pop’s bodyguard, it didn’t look like he’d moved an inch to try to stop Sirena from punching his lights out and now seemed to be eyeing her with a new respect, a hint of a smile playing on his mouth.

Even though he knew that he would catch hell from Pop the instant they got home, Dean couldn’t  help but smile as well as he settled back into his seat, between Sirena and Jared and across from Hank. And as his brother spotted his smile and returned it without hesitation, for the first time in a long time, Dean realized that things between himself and Hank finally felt that they were as they should be.


End file.
